


140 - a twitter fic compilation

by Eleint



Category: Original Work
Genre: Environmentalism, History, Love, Multi, Other, Secrets, Travel, Twitter, Yearning, flight, life - Freeform, the sea
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-11
Updated: 2017-02-11
Packaged: 2018-09-23 15:06:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9662759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eleint/pseuds/Eleint
Summary: An edited collection of my twitter microfiction.





	1. Feb 11, 2017 (1)

**Author's Note:**

> I will slowly be migrating all of my unconnected twitter microfic here. Those posted in other works will remain where they are.

• By the time we realized we needed a tree museum, it was too late. All we had left were parking lots  
_On 'Big Yellow Taxi'_

• "It's a shame," she thought, "that gifts could never be returned."  
_Cassandra, from her broken throne._

• Amidst a field of onions he stood, red-eyed and sniffling. 

• It's stolen. All of it. Every voice. Every one. The voice of the nation is a lie, only painted brickwork and walls scream for us.  
_On politicians_

• Ringing sounds from the forests, deep roots breaking earth where miners dare not tread. Ironwood grows on nights like this, deep and dark and red. All that gets in the way is consumed, small patches of impurities that are worth fortunes. 

• Every traveler knows to bring with them a mirror, a ribbon and a comb when going to see the Grandmother of the Woods. But there are things one could leave behind, too.  
_Baba Yaga in her lonely house._

• His portfolio unfolded, spilling out sweet summer days, sacred nights, dull bus stop winters...time for sale, time for sale 

• In the forest, Lost Souls rooted themselves. Their fingers, bare-branches stretching up for a taste of the sky. Morning never came 

• We built mirror engines, trapping light between silvered-glass until the darkness retreated. No more will the shadows proceed us, we march in light. 

• Empathy kept her well fed; a little bit of happiness kept hunger away for days.  
_swallow your emotions._

• What's lost is never found again. Instead, they're replaced by careful copies made by cobbler elves. Each day is a busy day. Except socks. They've never gotten the hang of those. 

• The storm has past, what remains is the long slow work to pick up the pieces: Chip off the ice from the doors and windows: use it to rebuild the town's only tree. A behemoth which stretched off into the sky. It shatters every year, at the passing of winter


	2. Feb 11, 2017 (2)

• Concrete shoes tethered him down, but flight was in his bones. He'll fly one day, like his mother. 

• Secrets melted like sugar under his tongue, he could never speak when the words were important 'I love you,' he wanted to shout, but the words would not come

• In a world of blood, every person drowns

• She carefully tucked the folded note into her opened ribcage. 'Sadness' was where that belonged. 

• There were no more children. Crawling underneath their bed, they joined the monsters. Shadows can't hurt you. 

• I said: I drown in my emotions. You said: Don't we all? Don't we all? Till they're just one pebble in the endless sea.

• Echoes raced, vaulting off the ceilings and out into the hall. The shouting took the lead.

• Living backwards through time only works when you don't follow the footprints that show where you've been. Otherwise it's regret It also gives you the chance to make brand NEW mistakes

• Three times the fox chased it's tail. Three times, the snow fell down. Thick and white and quiet.

• "Reach for the stars." "Why?" "Because that's the last place we can escape to.

• Never fear the light, they'd said. But then, they had come; searching and hungry. Eyes caught in the beams glazed over the bodies consumed. Screams of triumph rose up from under the snow - a rainbow of colors - streaks of light all flashing white, white, white. 

• She opened her chest, placing her brother's ice sculpture into the hole where her heart had been. It'll melt in time for next year  
_Apathy is a hot commodity_

• Crouched down beneath the tinsel, the little Tin Soldier waited. Operation Tannebaum was in motion. The cat was awake  
_Forget the rat king, there's a new villain in toy town_

• Stare not too long at crows; they stare back. They learn your face, through each and every reincarnation. Immortality, I suppose 

• Maps crawled across his skin: one moment stars, the next - cavernous unknown depths. The secret places of the world, exposed 

• Rumor flew that the eldritch horrors had been selected to run the gift exchange. Steam cleaners sold out; presents were mandatory


	3. Feb 11, 2017 (Oceans)

• Nameless, she traced the names of her past lovers, buried under the blue of inked waves. All lost at sea. Never marry a sailor. The ocean is first in their heart, their ship second. Anyone else is a passing memory.

• Currents pulled you deep into the waiting maws of mantle sharks. Their magma veined skin leaving a trail of boiling bubbles in their wake

• They sold the sea. Sections marked off, cut and pasted into a patchwork of nations. Everywhere an international incident, waiting. 

• Don't get lost in the depths. The springs and lint of the sofas have trapped many an experienced diver. You can still see their bones, picked clean, gleaming against the dull soil. Nothing goes to waste when even one scrap can fill a thousand mouths.

• Strands of seaweed marked passages in a bible that no one could read; Salt stiff pages, sold like art from a lost culture

• Lost to the sea. What does that even mean? Our sailors always return, as air, as spirits, as the long dark shadows against our walls

• Life began in these waters, it misses them

• Waves entice people to enter the water. Swim now; swim forever, they say, a continual chorus dragging things back to the sea

• The year breaks against the shores of the present, currents dragging old tidings away, others drifting in. What would return this year?

• She walked with the drunk rolling gait of one too long at sea, where she'd left herself so many years ago. 

• We can't ask the ocean to take out our trash for us, we've already put enough into it.


End file.
